Black coffee ordered boldly
that
wouldn’t soften with milk.
and
then in the train carriage -
inarticulate
as a locked door
quiet
teen - young quaker.
Accustomed
to silence
and
as strange as bare skin
quiet
behind bathroom doors
a
towel - mute and tawdry.
Mute
earth - young shaker.
“He
was a good boy
he
never had an angry phase”
Where
the seatbelt rubs -
in
the back of the car -
the
firsts finally finish.
Build
a bus shelter memorial
you
were such a tender child
put
it with the storm memories
put
it in your boring pile.